


Don't Lock Me Out

by illustriousphan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Phan, 2012!Phan, Angst, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Dan - Freeform, Drabbles, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illustriousphan/pseuds/illustriousphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan goes out to dinner without Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Lock Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> hello again mi amigos. this fic is a part of the [phandom little pop!](http://phandomlittlepop.tumblr.com) for this fic i got to work with [arcana-daiva](http://arcana-daiva.tumblr.com) (my beta) and [itsmyfridge](http://itsmyfridge.tumblr.com) (doodler). (thanks, y'all, you're the cooliest.) you can read this on tumblr [here](http://illustriousphan.tumblr.com/post/137322535540/dont-lock-me-out-drabbler-chemicallester-it-me). the doodle is there too so i recommend checking it out. it's pretty neato. okay that's it i think bye

He’d played his music on shuffle. He’d tried to tidy his bedroom, but stopped when he’d found a sharpie -- _the_ sharpie -- that had been missing since the move from Manchester. Dan had done a lot of things today, but none of them had seemed to fix the tightness binding his heart and stomach. He was almost desperate enough for alcohol.

On the couch now, though, he didn’t really want to move. Maybe because he was lazy. Probably because Phil was asleep next to him, looking extra-prone to disturbances.

Another thing he’d done today was argue. Though it wasn’t as bad as previous occurrences, Dan knew it was what had caused him to feel as shitty as he did. And he did want to apologize to Phil. He just… _couldn’t_.

Looking at Phil, he picked at his nails.

He nudged Phil a few minutes later, still picking. “Wanna get takeout?” It was the flimsiest attempt at amends that Dan had probably ever tried. He looked down at his fingers; the hangnail on his thumb was more appealing than this situation.

Phil was obviously still asleep. After biting at the hangnail even more, Dan convinced himself that Phil had shaken his head. But he was going to have to get something, as he didn’t feel like cooking and Phil sure as hell wouldn’t offer. Takeout it was.

Phil would have to get something else.

After closing his laptop and switching rooms as to not disturb Phil any further, he phoned in the order. He even went so far as to pretend he'd forgotten Phil’s usual order. He hadn’t, of course.

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far and the trip there and back would take ten minutes at the most. Dan ached to write a little note explaining his absence to Phil. To apologize. But, remembering the encounter that had probably caused Phil to get so sleepy in the first place, he couldn’t. So, he didn’t.

The first thing he noticed when he left the flat was how cold it was. The second was that he’d forgotten his phone. _Great_.

Sighing, he debated going back to get it. Decided not to. The whole walk there, even though Dan knew well that he was being melodramatic, he couldn’t help but wonder if Phil was texting, asking where he was. By the time he reached a crossing, guilt had stuffed up his face like a cold.

A mouse of a thought skittered through his mind. It was a bad idea, but it would work. After paying for the meal with forced smiles and a 10 pound bill (not a twenty, as it would usually be), he rerouted himself. To the liquor store it was.

Twenty minutes later (ten minutes later than he’d hoped to return home), he reminded himself of a losing poker player. That is, what such a loser would look like if they were slightly drunk and eating Thai food, all while trekking up fifty flights of stairs.

For a terrifying moment he thought the door to the flat was locked. Turns out, he just hadn’t turned the handle all the way.

Dan pointedly didn’t look in the lounge on his way to the kitchen. He stashed the alcohol in the back of the fridge after being momentarily startled by the fridge walrus, and threw away what little remained of his dinner. His eyes caught momentarily on the sticky notes he’d left on the counter. If he could just make it to his bedroom, he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. He could spend all night catching up on albums. Maybe that would loosen some of the hell in his system.

But of course, of _fucking course_ , Phil was leaving his room. Dan tried not to look like he’d been purging his emotions for the last half-hour.

Concern was written in purple ink across Phil’s blue eyes. The longer Dan looked at him, the less the alcohol worked.  

Over Phil’s worried eyes was a paper-thin white veil; it made as good of a mask as a plastic bag. They both knew how feeble it was.

Phil broke the silence with a tentative “Hi.” Then, a moment later, with, “Where’d you go?”

“To that Thai place.”

Dan knew that Phil was going to ask. He shook his head, making a split-second decision. No thoughts. Just movement. His lips were on the ones that had cursed at him, spat at him, and _encouraged_ him earlier. But _wow_. It was still Phil. Still the one who dyed his hair black, sometimes with Dan’s help. It was still the one he’d kissed on the Manchester Eye.

“Hey, Phil?” Dan pretended the confusion in the boy’s blue eyes was awe. It sobered him. “I found the sharpie.”


End file.
